Sanctuary
by SGCbearcub
Summary: Sequel to Spellcaster: Voldemort is dead, but the fight is just beginning. HG/SS AU after Half-Blood Prince  Spellcaster should be read first.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This story is the sequel to Spellcaster which really should be read first. Santuary takes place about three weeks after the end of Spellcaster.

* * *

The island thrust from the waves like a protest.

The curled fist of a giant, defying the waves that broke it.

The witch stood braced against the wind and held one hand to her mouth as she stared across barren rock and jagged seas. The abbey – if ever it had deserved that name – was a weathered ruin buried beneath tough grass and stubby bushes.

Whoever had built this place had built a prison.

There were no flatlands to grow crops. No gentle coves to moor fishing boats. Rough stone and pitted hillsides fell way into chasms and perilous footing. The ground beneath her feet shuddered as the waves slammed into the island, causing an almost inaudible hum to rise from the rocks. It was a living note that crept inside her body and crawled its way across her bones.

"There are caves."

She spun, startled. She'd almost forgotten she wasn't alone. The wind whipped the black strands of his hair away from his face exposing the harsh planes of his cheek and jaw. Hermione looked at him, at the merciless line of his mouth, and thought if any man were a creature of this bleak landscape, it was he.

The cold salt air beaded on the grey wool of his tunic and his leather trousers looked damp. So did the scuffed dragonhide boots that laced all the way to his knee. Battered though his clothing was, it was better protection here than the Muggle jeans and hiking boots she had chosen. The flat black of his eyes gave her no inkling as to his thoughts.

She supposed she probably didn't want to know them.

He picked his way carefully, back to the pile of rubble that marked the abbey ruins. He never glanced back to see if she was keeping up. She wasn't certain she thought he should, it just seemed significant that he didn't. Nor did he pause when he reached the broken coverstone that had once protected the entrance to the cave.

The cave had been a storeroom of some kind. Moisture seeped from the walls, and rotting shelves and the remnants of old barrels littered the floor. They appeared undisturbed, as if they had simply fallen apart when the preservation charms failed. Hermione looked around for evidence of animal infestation – mice, rats, or anything at all – and found nothing.

It was as lifeless as the rest of the isle.

She felt as grey as the stone around her, bleached and pressed flat, knowing only the certainty of failure. She had not expected Camelot, but some part of her had been so certain there would be more than this. Walls. Maybe a roof. Perhaps an ancient weed-choked garden. Something she could put to rights with hard work and magic.

"They must have sent them here to die," she whispered bleakly.

Snape had his wand held high, peering downward into a passageway of some kind at the far end of the cave. A rough set of steps disappeared into the darkness. He looked up and shrugged.

"More likely, to contemplate their many sins, I imagine," he said dryly.

He stepped back toward her, transfiguring some of the rotten planks into a low sofa and wool blanket. Hermione sat reflexively, pulling the blanket around her shoulders when she sensed the warming charm worked into it. She stared sightlessly at the far wall and contemplated the collapse of all her desperate planning.

Snape dropped onto the sofa next to her and stretched out his legs with a sigh," We're going to need people with experience mapping cave systems. I would suggest Bill and Charlie Weasley – assuming you are back to speaking terms with the family."

She frowned at him, unable to decide if that last was sarcasm or not.

"I realize you had your heart set on row upon row of tenting in a bucolic cow field,"Snape said evenly.

She looked at him suspiciously. The bland comment was eerily accurate. The image she'd nurtured had indeed resembled that description. She almost suspected Legilimency before realizing all he would need were the same memories she possessed of the tents pitched during the Quiddich World Cup.

"Underground serves you better," he said, his gaze assessing as he studied the cave walls. "The stone will provide shelter from the elements."

She looked at the cold, damp rock surrounding her and realized he might mean that literally.

Her hand almost – but not quite – rose to touch her right upper arm.

Snape indicated the far passageway with his wand. "For the foreseeable future, I suggest finding somewhere to set the tents up inside. They will already be charmed for space and comfort, and the canvas will protect against the moisture falling on our heads."

He directed a sour look upwards.

She leaned back wearily, turning her head just enough to look at him. He was eying the roof with disfavour, but seemed more intent on solving her problems than commenting on disaster. It was not what she would have expected from him.

"Who are you, "she asked seriously, "and what have you done with my husband?"

He stilled, and she thought at first he had taken insult. Then she saw the careful way he was deliberately not looking at her and realized what specific word had caught his attention. Not, she thought grimly, the best way to bring up that particular hippogriff in the room.

They had never talked about what the magical tattoos on their arms meant. Nor had either of them dared to bring up the Elemental Marriage rites she had used to bind him to her. At the time…

Well, she supposed every bad idea had seemed like a good idea at the time.

And neither of them had been exceeding anxious to discuss the matter.

"You mean, why am I resisting the urge to tear your naïve and pastoral hopes to shreds?"

She stared at the side of his averted head. His tone seemed less mocking and almost - playful? Disconcerted, she continued to stare at him and discovered he was peering back at her through the curtain of his hair.

"More or less," she said cautiously.

The unexpected grin that slashed briefly across his face did disturbing things to her insides. He stretched slightly, drawing her eyes to the taut muscles of his stomach as soft leather molded itself to his body. She shifted uneasily. There was something uncomfortable in her reaction to the lazy sprawl of his limbs.

"Unlike certain brash Gryffindors – who shall remain nameless," he said pointedly, "I was less inclined to fantasize and slightly better educated about the history of my ancestral wealth. Or lack thereof."

She nodded absently, less intent on what he was saying than the lack of bitterness in his voice. Experience with Ron's shamed and aggressive pride regarding the Weasley finances had led her to expect more acrimony from Snape on the issue. Especially from a man as defensive about his consequence as Snape. She regarded him uncertainly.

Surely that wasn't amusement in his eyes.

Her gaze dropped, and snagged on the scars visible across the backs of his fingers. Pale white lines that spoke of pain and torture. They weren't the worst on his body, but they were the most recent. Without thinking, she reached out and took hold of his nearest hand and traced the scars with a tentative finger. He'd almost lost the use of his hands, because of her. His life, too, but to a Potion Master, that would be a secondary consideration.

His body went rigid when she laid a kiss against his knuckles.

He'd almost lost everything, because of her. Because of guilt for what he had unknowingly done to her as a child. Because Dumbledore had used that guilt to drive him back to Voldemort one last time. He'd only said shortly that it had been his choice, the one time she tried to broach the subject, but there was no denying that she had been the weapon.

"What have I done to you?" she asked softly.

He didn't say a word as she continued to explore the scars with gentle fingers, his body screaming a violent tension she was a fool to court, but she couldn't seem to stop. She wished she could feel guilty, about what she had done to him, but she didn't. Part of her was even glad she did not. Given that she had known what she was doing when she chose to do it, guilt seemed self-indulgent.

"I think I'm proud of you," she said. She tilted her head to meet veiled black eyes. "Does that seem strange to you?"

He quirked an eyebrow, "That I might make a Gryffindor proud?"

She shook her head, but didn't know how to put the rest into words.

This war had generated so many secrets – some of them still to be told. So many plans that had required sacrifice and pain. Yet all of it had seemed perfectly natural too, because there had simply been no other choice. Pride implied a correct choice, a decision where one result was as likely as the other.

In the end, she, Harry, and Ron had hunted Horcruxes because there was no other choice. To ignore the threat was to ignore the danger to themselves. That was not real bravery, it was self-preservation.

The Dowry project too, was an inevitable reaction to sanctioned rape and the violation of personal freedoms. The Marriage Law was simply unacceptable, and that was that.

Marrying Snape to gain access to the Unplottable abbey – she supposed some would see that as brave and something of which to be proud. She agreed that it had been a sacrifice, but she disagreed that it should be any source of pride. It had been a matter of practicality, of survival, and she wasn't sure she should be proud that she could be so ruthless in the pursuit of her goals.

All three of them had needed courage for what they had done. She was proud they had not faltered. She was proud of Harry for the way he had faced the uncertainty of what Voldemort had done to him. He could have screamed and yelled and ignored the very real threat he had posed to those who loved him. Instead, he had chosen to deal with the potential, in spite of the cost to himself.

She was proud of Ron, too.

In some ways, she suspected she was proud of Ron most of all, for he was the one who had needed to reach furthest past his own weakness in order to succeed. It was Ron who had given up the most of what he had needed in order for their plans to succeed. Snape had sneered at Ron more than once for his selfishness and need to be in the spotlight. She wondered what he would think of him, when next they met.

"You didn't need to swear to me, "she said finally. "You didn't need to forgive me, and you didn't need to go back to Voldemort. These were all things you chose to do. You could have chosen differently."

"You did not need to forgive me either, "he observed quietly.

She shook her head.

His mouth twisted bitterly and she realized he had misunderstood her.

"I didn't give up anything I needed,' she said carefully.

Because she hadn't.

No part of her self had relied on a hatred of Snape. But part of her had wanted him, and part of her had needed him, and part of her had hungered for what he had implied he could become for her. Forgiving him had been easy, in the end. Hermione Granger had not lost anything she had not already given, in that transaction.

Snape, on the other hand…

"I would not have expected such an observation at your age," he said thoughtfully, his eyes sharpening.

She shrugged again. "It was what you taught us."

He looked startled.

"You kept telling us where we were weak. Or where you thought we were weak, "she amended. Harry had never been the glory seeker Snape had accused him of being.

But if Snape had thought it, so did Voldemort.

"It hurt, "she admitted, and she didn't mean the things he had said them while they were growing up.

It had hurt more than anything in the world, to hear her worse faults, the things she always feared about herself on the lips of her only friends. All the things she hated about herself and all the needs that drove her, that could be used against her. And she had felt small and spiteful and mean when it was her turn, to tell them things they wouldn't want to know.

It had hurt all of them more than they'd expected, more than they'd intended.

But in the end, they got through it. Painful as it was, nothing could be fixed if it couldn't be faced. Hermione truly believed that was the power Harry had, the strength that Voldemort knew not. The Dark Lord had people who only told him what they thought he wanted to hear.

Harry had Ron and Hermione.

And while it had been cold and ugly and painful, they couldn't afford the cost of pretty lies.


	2. Chapter 2

It was quiet in the laboratory. The girls had all finished for the night and she could hear the scratch of Snape's quill and the soft brush of potions on paper that came from the next room. Hermione sharpened her own quill and started on her checklist of things done and still to do.

_Find the Unplottable island_ … check.

Odd that finding the island had turned out to be the easy part.

_Clean up the Dowry_ … partial check.

She had scrubbed and cleaned up several centuries worth of dust and dirt from the library. Then she had transfigured the gathered pile into a bookshelf.

_Send out copies of __Snape's Guide to Field Mediwizardry_ … check.

That project had been more successful than she had dreamed it could be. The original plan had called for only the Seventh Year witches to receive copies this early. But with Snape to teach Copying and the girls binding blank grimoires, she had been able to accelerate the project.

She had already sent copies to last year's class of Seventh-Year boys. She had intended to wait until things were more organized, but with the revelation that Muggles would be pulled into the mix, she had needed to accelerate that part of the plan as well.

_Stockpile food for a year_ … incomplete.

Food was automatcically exempt from the Dowry spells - as were potion ingredients and potions. As soon as the storage room was clear, she could begin stocking up.

_Send out permission slips_… check.

The more she had thought about it, the more she realized that leaving the issue of underage participation until Moving Day was just asking for trouble. What if all those eager young witches snapped their wands before they tried to use the Port Key?

Liberal use of the Time Turner had allowed her to make several hundred copies of the Port Key page. On the bottom she had added a permission slip and a place for a wand mark. She'd started owling them to the parents of all the underage witches who had copies of _Snape's Guide to Field Mediwizardry_.

So far, she hadn't received any responses.

_Seduce Severus Snape_ …

Yes…well…

Hermione sighed.

How exactly was she to do that again?

There was so much she hadn't told him yet. It hadn't seemed to matter, back in the beginning. He'd either been a traitor or a victim of Dumbledore's schemes. Neither had obligated her to trust him with her secrets. It was different now.

And secrets weren't the only problem.

There was no question Snape would be loyal to his oath to her. The more pertinent issue was asking just how far he would go in honoring that oath. She didn't want him to sleep with her just because she held his oath. She wanted him to want her. For the first time since all this began, she could honestly say she wanted him.

Truthfully, she was getting accustomed to having him at her side. If she had to take one over the other, she'd take his oath first.

So…

So.

She held her wand to her list and set it on fire. No point to accidentally revealing secrets by leaving any evidence around.

* * *

Severus was of two minds lately. The first, was that perhaps he had bitten off more than he could chew. The second was a new respect for Hermione and her field guide. Writing a book was blasted difficult – even when one knew the subject cold.

Glaring at his notes, Severus bent one more time to organizing them in a coherent fashion.

Every Dowry Heir was obligated by tradition to add value to her own Dowry. Some added books, others property. Hermione valued knowledge. Worshipped it really, in a way he could understand and appreciate. It hadn't been difficult to realize that any gift involving books would find favour with her.

The problem had been how to differentiate his books from all those she was acquiring as part of Dowry trades.

He'd already volunteered to help her bind extra copies of _Snape's Guide to Field Mediwizardry_. She hadn't even questioned his desire to learn the charms required to craft the Master Copy as well as the guide itself. The trusting way she had handed over the charms had both irritated him and caused something deep inside his chest to ache a bit.

Transfiguring a dozen Dopple-mice was the easy part. Every apprentice of potions learned how in their third year of apprenticeship in order to test potions that were too dangerous to test on a living breathing creature. As well, he owned every reference book one would need to complete an apprenticeship – and they were all well past the twenty-year copyright allowed by the International Wizarding Standards Committee.

The sound of chattering voices attracted his attention.

His eyes narrowed as he caught sight of his prey. "Miss Cornell, Miss Wellesley, and Miss Yardley, if I might have a word…"

* * *

"Floating Gardens," Hermione said triumphantly.

If she weren't so focused of the possibilities spreading out before her, she'd have laughed at the cautious sideways look Snape threw Harry and the way Harry just rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"We build floating gardens," she explained, dropping an armful of several large books on horticulture on the table.

Snape continued to look wary, while Harry dragged the topmost book toward him and sneezed when he opened the dusty front cover.

"Just give in," Harry advised Snape helpfully. "She gets to the point eventually."

Harry grinned at her when she flicked him on the ear with a small lash of magic. Snape's eyes darted between them, then grabbed the next book from the top of the pile looking as if he'd swallowed a frog.

"It's not that bad," Hermione told Snape, wondering uneasily if he was regretting his decision to swear to her already. Then she felt a small surge of annoyance. It wasn't like he hadn't known she was a book-loving swot, so he was just going to have to learn to live with it.

Still, she felt some of her triumphant glee drain away.

"We can dredge the soil from the sea-bed and use it to create floating gardens, like barges, around the island," she explained.

Harry blinked; Snape didn't seem to have any reaction at all.

"Didn't you say those seas were pretty rough?" Harry asked doubtfully.

She pulled another book from the pile and handed it to him.

"_Behind the Quiddich World Cup: The Making of the Event of a Lifetime_," Harry read aloud. He opened the front cover to check the title, then looked at her sceptically. "Since when do you read books about Quiddich?"

"Since I was curious about why it took so long to build the amphitheatre."

Comprehension dawned on Snape's face while Harry still looked confused.

"The magic to sustain all the transfigurations would have sucked the land dry in moments," Snape said. "It was the reservoirs that took time to build."

"Exactly, "Hermione said as she smiled briefly at Snape, then turned her attention back to Harry. "The Ministry had to bring in outside magic because the land couldn't support the magic for more than brief moments. But the water around the island is constantly generating energy. If we tap into it, it can fuel the gardens. As a side effect, the seas around the island will gentle."

Harry gave an admiring whistle.

Hermione smirked once, then turned to the second half of the problem. "The question is how to get the soil to the surface. Gillyweed won't work in salt water and the Bubblehead charm won't help with the cold and pressure."

In her head, both the White King and the White Queen turned to stare at the White Bishop. In real life, Snape gave them both a suspicious frown.

"Well?" Harry said to Snape finally.

"Well, what, Mr. Potter?"

"What do we do?" Harry demanded.

"I'm a duellist, not a Charms expert, "Snape said irritably. "The charms I know tend to take things apart, not put them together."

"Plus, "Hermione added," I'm not sure how to set the battery spells without having them overload and blow up. The Ministry had dozens of experienced wizards working at once. And we'd need to calm the seas first in order to build the gardens"

"We'll have dozens of witches and wizards in another two months," Harry pointed out.

"Mostly young and inexperienced, Mr. Potter," Snape said. "And hopefully lacking in your lack of regard for your own safety."

Harry looked irritated for a moment, then sighed. "It's too bad we couldn't do it the Muggle way and raise the food hydroponically. From what you said, the caves are huge."

Both Snape and Hermione stared at Harry.

"What?" he demanded after a moment. "What did I say?"

"Greenhouses, "Hermione breathed. "Extensible greenhouses."

"Ambitious, "Snape said quietly, but not as if he were disagreeing with her. Instead, he sounded startled, and a bit surprised.

"Too ambitious? "she asked.

Glancing at Harry and then back to her, Snape began to grin. It was not a reassuring sight.

"Oh, I'd say it was just ambitious enough."

On that mysterious note he stood and disappeared into the Hogwarts Restricted section and leaving Harry and Hermione to stare at each other with trepidation. It was happening, it really was.

Ready or not…game on.

* * *

Hermione apparated to the island after dinner. With summer only a few weeks away, it was still light out but growing dark quickly. It didn't matter. What she wanted to do should only take a few minutes. She wanted to see if any of the original abbey still existed and if there had been greenhouses that could be rebuilt.

Ignoring the barren rock and dismal weather, she let her magic sink into the rock around her searching for the remnants of intelligence, the semi-living consciousness of a sentient building. She hadn't thought to search before and she rather wondered if all these years if any living building would still be sane, but she wanted to try. It would be easier to rebuild than to break new ground.

Just as she was about to give up, she touched …something. Something familiar though she could not have said why it seemed so. The rock around her hummed with the power of the sea waves crashing against the island and she siphoned off some of it to sharpen her senses.

_Loneliness._

_Despair._

_Emptiness._

The emotions poured into her, grabbing at her and shaking her with their power. She gasped as she tried to back away and cried out in fear when the something gripped hold of her and refused to let go.

_Please_.

Hermione hesitated in her struggles. That plea was so familiar.

_Please_.

Hunger built upon centuries ate away at her core, tearing her bit from bit as the weather tore at her flesh, grinding her to sand. Year upon year of emptiness of purpose. And with that she recognized the hunger and the plea. It was the same thing she had sensed in Snape. The Slytherin desire to serve a worthy master. To be recognized and honored for skill and loyalty.

Even as she built that image of her Elemental husband, the sentience latched onto it. Relief and terror warred within Hermione as the grip on her mind eased even as the thing riffled through her brain for image and memory. A single picture floated to the surface, a tapestry of Slytherin and Gryffindor painted to reflect everything that relationship was meant to be.

_Yesssss._

Longing wrapped every word.

_Please. Take_.

_Take me. _

And almost without realizing she had done so…Hermione did.


	3. Chapter 3

Hermione was exhausted as she broached the main doors of Hogwarts and started to stagger in the direction of Snape's rooms. Although, she supposed that now the Elemental marriage had taken place, she should start thinking of them as their rooms.

She passed several older students patrolling the halls, but no one tried to stop her or question the lateness of her activities. Proof positive that none thought of her as a student, yet obviously she wasn't being considered a teacher either. The activities of all the professors were being monitored and restricted for fear of attempts to take back the school.

For their part, the professors seemed content to continue teaching the younger students.

"Ms. Granger?"

Hermione almost sighed and gave the stairs to the dungeons a brief longing look. Then she turned. "Professor McGonagall," she said politely.

McGonagall stiffened slightly. "I was wondering if I might have a moment of your time."

Mental images of a hot fire and hot chocolate were abandoned and she nodded before preceding the Professor into her sitting room.

"Biscuit?" McGonagall asked, almost desperately polite.

Hermione's hard-won new manners gave a flinch but she smiled and took one. Then she looked around curiously. The room hadn't changed since she had been there last but somehow it seemed different. Warmer. Less intimidating.

Just a room.

"I wanted to say thank-you, " McGonagall said curtly, her discomfort giving the words a clipped sound. "We didn't…none of us ever considered that Severus might need saving. "

Hermione couldn't help the smirk that crossed her face in spite of the momentary resentment she felt on Snape's behalf. "He generally gives one the impression that he's the thing that people need saving from."

"Nevertheless, we should have trusted Albus's reasons for trusting him."

And that was that in a nutshell.

"What about Severus himself? Shouldn't you have trusted his reasons?" Snape's first name tasted odd in her mouth.

McGonagall snorted. "We never knew what they were. The two of them plotting like thieves." She held the biscuit tin out to Hermione again.

Hermione declined politely.

"We could have found someone from the Order, though. Lord knows we were scrambling to marry off everyone else. "

Hermione and McGonagall both were surprised when Hermione's hair crackled briefly with blue fire. McGonagall's expression shifted to pity.

"I'm sorry, "she said softly, "that we were not able to save you."

Hermione looked at her and shook her head. "I was a volunteer."

"And you are to be commended for making the best of a bad situation, Ms. Granger. But…"

"No, "Hermione said flatly. "I volunteered. There were other options but I chose this one. And now he's mine. "She pulled up her sleeve and stared dispassionately at the tattoo on the inside of her forearm. The one that bound her more tightly to Snape than the Elemental tattoos on her other arm.

"He's mine, "she said again, defending against what, she didn't know. She only knew she had had choices.

Snape was one of those choices.

* * *

Escaping as soon as was courteous, Hermione detoured to pop her head into the lab. Now that the Dowry Project no longer needed Copy Services, she had expected the traffic in the lab to dwindle. Contrary to those expectations, many of the girls were brewing more potions than ever and storing them in their Dowry boxes.

Most of the recipes came straight out of _Snape's Guide to Field Mediwizardry_.

Snape and Madame Pince were teaching the older girls the recovery charms and potions and several of the Seventh –Year girls were exchanging their services with recovering Hermione's library in exchange for more difficult to brew potions from Snape.

All-in-all, not what she had expected.

Given the lateness of the hour, she didn't expect anyone to be in the lab except Snape and she was right. Seated at his desk, he was reading one of the many requests for book trades that were still coming in. An owl was standing at Snape's elbow, irritably nipping at the sleeve of the black sweater Snape was wearing.

Hermione watched, a smile breaking across her face as Snape fumbled in a drawer for a treat without taking his eyes from the letter.

"Anything interesting?" she asked.

"Define interesting," he returned smoothly – so smoothly she was left wondering if he had known she was there as she watched him. On the other hand, he could just be that good at controlling his surprise.

"Lost grimoires?" she asked hopefully.

He snorted, then extended the letter in her direction. "Cornelia Wallace is willing to trade copies of any ten books in exchange for recovery services of a damaged portion of her library. It appears she doesn't trust the established binders – and I suspect, doesn't have the money to pay them."

Hermione looked at his expressionless face. Did he want her to take the deal? Or was he waiting to see if she would commit him without asking?

"What do you think we should do?" she asked, and was rewarded when his shoulders relaxed slightly.

He smiled, this time a genuine smile. "Take a look at the inventory."

Hermione glanced at it, then blinked and reread the page. Then she started to drool. Before she could read the second page she handed the letter back with an almost physical sensation of parting. "You choose," she said quickly. "If you are going to be doing most of the work, they should be books you want. We'll just make a second copy for the dowry."

"How about I negotiate for twenty books and you pick ten and I pick ten?" Snape countered. "Copies of all twenty for each of us."

Hermione couldn't resist the squeal that came out of her. And why not? _Markinson's Third Text on Transfiguration_ was impossible to find. Before she could remember this was Snape and not either of the boys, she had flung herself forward and kissed him on the cheek. She remembered herself too late and when she pulled back his face was flushed red. But he didn't say anything. He just fumbled in the desk and offered the owl another treat.

"Well…"she started.

"I'll reply …." He said at the same time.

He cleared his throat when she stared at him awkwardly and shuffled the letter. "I'll get started on this right away."

She nodded.

"Did you find what you were looking for on the island," he asked.

'Yes," she said slowly. "I think I did."


	4. Chapter 4

Lucius Malfoy was many things…unobservant wasn't one of them.

And while visiting the Ministry every Third Tuesday was essential to his business affairs, he would have been the first to admit things were normally not that exciting. Which was why the sight of three young goblins at the Patents Office swiftly attracted his attention.

The goblin on the left was half again the size of the other two and Lucius nearly committed the social gaffe of staring with his mouth open. Female! A Legal Counsel apprentice according to her clothes.

Lucius began to drift closer.

Three young goblins come to file a patent – no doubt for the Prospect of the Bank Officer apprentice in the middle. It was unheard of. Oh not the Bank Officer candidate – that was normal enough. But what by Merlin was deemed important enough for two other apprentices to join forces?

This had all the makings of a School Project.

"Strange doings, eh Malfoy?"

Lucius glanced at the elderly wizard who had come up beside him. Tilby Bobbin was one of the few remaining members of the Wizengamot – currently spending the last two years of his ten year apprenticeship under the guidance of the Emergency Wizarding Council. Normally Lucius wouldn't have tipped his hand this early in the game, but his curiosity and burgeoning sense of something about to happen caused him to be more direct than was his usual wont.

"School Project?" he asked.

"Merlin," Tilby breathed, clearly shocked by the idea, "I hope not. No, surely not."

Then he looked at the female goblin and winced.

Lucius sighed and started walking toward the goblins. When they looked up he bowed politely. "Good afternoon, Apprentices."

The Bank Officer apprentice looked slightly defensive, his claws clenching on the papers in his hands as he bowed back, perfectly polite.

Lucius was mildly surprised. As a general rule, goblins didn't bother with good manners. "I was wondering if your principal had authorized a prospectus for your new…" he trailed off leadingly.

The three goblins just stared at him.

Lucius tried again. " I'm always interested in investing in new projects. "

He stared at them, puzzled when none of them did anything except twitch the odd ear or two. Even a School Project – especially a School Project – should be looking for investors. Finally the goblin in the center bowed again.

"Your pardon, but my Prospect has not yet indicated her future plans. Might I pass along your contact information Mr. Malfoy?"

And that settled whether the blasted goblins knew who he was. How intriguing. A Prospect and a witch. A witch whose Bank Officer candidate seemed particularly close-mouthed.

Perhaps the day wasn't going to be so boring after all.


	5. Chapter 5

Hermione woke the morning after her solo trip to the island with an ominous sense of time passing. Only eight weeks left before her world would change again.

She wasn't sure how she felt about that.

As much as she, Harry, and Ron had planned for this, she had never really let herself consider what it would look or feel like, this in-between state of one thing and another. The Horcruxes were destroyed; several hundred witches now possessed Dowry boxes along with the empowerment inherent in a self-study magical education; and port keys in the guise of _Snape's Guide to Field Mediwizardry_ had been sent to the most vulnerable.

That the book was useful in its own right was just a bonus.

Maybe that was the problem.

She hadn't expected it to be so…well…

…easy.

She nodded to Snape as she walked into the potions laboratory and found several students in for an early brewing session. She supressed a sudden longing to join them and lit the smelting cauldron instead.

Her first priority was getting her own Dowry in order. Once they moved to the island, materials for the reclamation potions used on the damaged books would be in short supply. Best to get the work finished now, while she had the chance.

It was on her third trip out of the Dowry to add items to the smelter that she found Minerva waiting for her, tears in her eyes. Hermione froze in shock as the older woman put shaking arms around her and gave her a hug.

"Oh Hermione," was all Minerva seemed to be able to manage.

Hermione found tears falling in response and was vaguely aware of the students politely keeping their attention on their brewing. Snape was watching, his expression carefully non-expressive.

Minerva finally let Hermione go and held up the book clenched in her hand. _Snape's Guide to Field Mediwizardry_. "Thank-you," was all she said. "But how…?"

Hermione relaxed and indicated Snape and the girls. "Welcome to the Dowry Project," she said, letting Minerva into the next secret.

Minerva looked devastated when her eyes found Snape. "I didn't know," she told him.

Snape just gave an almost imperceptible shrug of the shoulders." You were not supposed to. "

That almost dismissive comment nearly sent Minerva back into tears and Hermione hastily distracted her by giving her a tour of the next room where Apprentice Wallace was overseeing the reclamation project now that Snape was assured of her competence and willingness to yell for help if she needed it.

Plus, he had already deactivated the more serious curses.

"Hermione," Minerva said finally, "How can I help?"

* * *

There was still much to do.

The Dowry storage room was a mess. She'd waded through half of it, but the remainder was crammed with rotten furniture – all of it damaged beyond repair. She didn't even know what was on the other side of the room, but suspected there was a potion's lab behind all the junk.

With a sigh, she went to work.

Stopping only to eat lunch, she cleared the last of the storage room by supper. It was complicated work given she had to examine each piece for curses, charms, and hidden items before breaking it apart and feeding it to the smelting cauldron. The residual ash that could not be released from the Dowry was transfigured into a bookshelf.

The storage room proved to be just that – a largish storage area lined with shelves that connected the library to a door on the other side. Once Hermione had cleared the door, one look confirmed that it opened into a tiny potions laboratory that appeared to be a dumping ground for damaged cauldrons and other broken equipment.

She closed the door and regarded the storage room narrowly. She had originally planned to use the storage room to house more bookshelves and use her beaded bag to store preserved food. Now that she saw the room though – and the shelves – she rather thought turning the storage room into a larder might be a better use of space. Especially since food and potions were two items that were automatically released from the Dowry spell.

She decided to deal with the potions laboratory after supper. Stretching to get the kinks out of her back she gathered the next set of ten books that was part of her original deal with Snape and went in search of food. She supposed she should let Snape have copies of everything, but she was having too much fun trying to guess which book to give him as the tenth.

Outside the Dowry, the lab was quiet.

The students were gone and Snape was talking quietly with Apprentice Wallace while the two of them worked intently over a battered grimoire. Hermione studied them silently. Wallace had finally lost that edge of fear and the two of them seemed perfectly content to discuss the science and art of bookbinding for hours on end. A familiar and unwanted pang of inadequacy pricked at her when Snape smiled approvingly at his apprentice.

She pointedly ignored it.

For her part, Hermione had discovered that she would rather read a book than worry about how it was Bound. Binding all those copies of _Snape's Field Guide to Mediwizardry_ had smothered any inclinations she might have had toward bookbinding as a career. Snape didn't look up from the delicate repair work he was doing as she added the ten books to his desk although Apprentice Wallace glanced at her.

Hermione resisted the sudden and irrational urge to whack him upside the head with a book.

Instead, she silently dug into the supper tray someone had left on a nearby work-table. By the time she finished, Snape and Wallace still showed no signs of coming up for air so she cast a cushioning spell and a cone-of-silence around the area where the discards would land and dove back into the Dowry.

Melted, cracked, and rusty cauldrons were summarily evicted from the Dowry. As were boxes of shattered or chipped vials and potion bottles. Expired potions and potions ingredients had to be handled with more care. By the time she was satisfied she had gotten everything she was left with a handful of stirring rods and six hours had passed.

Stepping out of the Dowry she was surprised to find all the worktables cleared off and Snape in the middle of sorting through the cauldrons and placing them on the tables in some sort of pattern that clearly made sense to him. Noxious fumes roiled behind shields placed over the smelting cauldron and the oily smoke told her that the expired potions were being disposed of.

"We can recover the metals from most of these cauldrons," Snape told her matter-of-factly. "I think I can recover enough silver to plate at least one good-sized cauldron. There should be enough metal left after burning off the rust and other impurities to cast a good range of sizes."

Hermione blinked and Snape smirked.

"Potions Masters learn to craft all their own equipment in their final apprentice year," he told her calmly.

Well…that solved that problem.

With the laboratory empty - and only eight weeks to go - she decided now was as good as any time to give him the gift she had made for him. She unlocked a nearby cupboard and removed the wrapped parcel she had placed there earlier. She held it out.

He gave her a look of surprise, then slowly unwrapped it. The tension in his body made her wonder if he expected it to be booby-trapped. When it was revealed, he just stared at it, puzzled.

"I keyed it to your oldest male descendant or designated heir in case you don't have children."

"Dowry boxes are for women,"Snape said slowly.

"I wanted you to have a place that was yours," Hermione said.

Not to mention giving him a way to transport and enjoy all of his belongings when they relocated to the island. Transporting books in an Extensible Bag was a good way to damage them. She figured having his own private library and potions laboratory was the best gift she could give a man whose whole life had been an open book for two separate masters.

Snape's face was expressionless as he ran gentle fingertips across the polished wood of the box. She would have thought him unmoved except for the way his hands seemed to cradle the Dowry. When he looked up, his eyes were thoughtful.

"Thank-you," he said quietly.

"You're welcome," she replied.


	6. Chapter 6

**EWC Claims Credit for Camping Craze**

_Ministry employee Robert Townsend, manager of the new Family Planning department established by the Emergency Wizarding Council, has claimed credit for the wave of camping frenzy that is sweeping our community. Yours truly, Golda Gershwin, was present when he announced that as a result of the demand, the Ministry is pledging to expand existing Wizarding Campgrounds to add more spaces._

"_As a direct result of the new Marriage Law," Townsend said," we are seeing a revival in young people dedicated to creating family ties. Activities such as camping are a time-honored way for families to have fun on a budget. We applaud these young people for their efforts and wish to state that – unlike what opposition has claimed regarding the new Marriage Law – families are growing closer together."_

_Sales of tents, Muggle-style jeans, and hiking boots are only a few of the items that are flying off the shelves faster than you can say __**Wingardium Leviosa**__…_

Everywhere Hermione looked around Hogwarts these days, girls were setting out patterns for tents, cutting canvas for tents, charming the pieces, or magically sewing the tents together. Those who already had tents – or those who finished early – spent their spare time between classes brewing for Madame Pomfrey and St. Mungo's Hospital.

In spite of Voldemort's death, the hospital was stocking up with a vengeance.

As far as Hermione could tell, the money was being used to buy camping gear and foodstuffs. She had spent the last four weeks helping people with charming their tents, arranging careful shopping trips to Muggle London for older students, or explaining that while the Dowry boxes kept items from deteriorating, food still needed to be preserved first.

"Hermione," a low voice said from behind her.

She didn't want to have this conversation.

"Ginny." Hermione kept her face expressionless as she turned to face her.

"This isn't the way, "Ginny said quietly, after casting a non-verbal Muffliato.

Hermione didn't even deny the almost-accusation. She had given Ginny a copy of _Snape's Guide to Mediwizardry_ last week. Ginny had been watching Hermione closely ever since.

"Are you going to try and stop me?" Hermione asked, curious.

Ginny straightened her shoulders. "I want to change your mind."

"It's too late for that."

A strange expression crossed Ginny's face. Grief maybe. Or regret. "I can't let you do this to Harry, Hermione. He's too important to get dragged down with you."

Hermione resisted the urge to ask if Ginny if she knew Harry at all.

"It's always been you, dragging the boys into things," Ginny said, gesturing angrily. "But you are not children anymore. This is treason, Hermione."

Hermione wanted to say she was wrong, that she was just saving people. Harry had that saving people thing. She wanted to say it was just like that. But it wasn't. The Ministry would consider what she was doing to be illegal at best. Treason at the worst. She and the boys had done much over the years that fell into that category, but Ginny was right about that too.

They weren't kids anymore.

"Do you even see what's going on? "Hermione demanded. "This so-called Marriage Law is nothing more than legalized rape. Is that what you want for yourself? For everyone around you?"

"We can stop it," Ginny snapped back. " But we need to do it legally. Don't you see? Harry is our best bet for that. He could become Minister of Magic. He could work to change the rules from the inside."

"The Minister of Magic can't fix this, and it'll be ten years before all the new appointees to the Wizengamot pass their apprenticeships. Ten years before there are enough of them to deactivate the EWC legally. What do you think is going to happen to us in those ten years?"

"So we protest. Like we are doing now," Ginny said forcefully.

"And if the EWC were human, that might actually work. But they aren't. They are like magical computer programs and they don't feel anything, Ginny. Not sympathy. Not remorse. And they know exactly what they are doing."

She couldn't prove it, but she knew in her bones what was going to happen. Phase one had already occurred. Anyone over the age of nineteen was already married. Many of those witches were already pregnant. Phase two would be bringing more bodies into the breeding pool.

She tried to reach Ginny. To make her understand what was going to happen next.

"Do you think the purebloods are going to stand around waiting to see who their children are married to? You know they won't. They'll start arranging marriages and they won't limit themselves to those in their last days of school. "

The purebloods would go for power and bloodlines and it wouldn't be long before they started arranging those marriages to younger and younger partners. Witches could legally marry at fourteen with their parents' permission as long as the wizard was over seventeen.

It would be older boys marrying younger girls for the first three years. Then a flurry of marriages at all ages as parents worried the best matches would be gone by the time their child hit the age to be matched by the Marriage Law. Or worse…that their children would be matched to Muggles.

Kids marrying kids and having kids.

"We can't protect the older wizards or witches –there are too many of them," Hermione said softly. "But we can protect the next generation."

Ginny just shook her head. "I'm sorry Hermione – but I can't let you do this."

She reached for her wand, then – as Hermione watched regretfully – her expression seemed to freeze. Hermione felt the tingle of magic as the Fidelius reacted to Ginny's intent and erased all knowledge of Sanctuary from Ginny's mind.

Ginny gave her a confused look, gave the camping crew a disinterested frown and walked away.

"I'm sorry," Hermione whispered.

Then she deactivated the cone of silence and bent to pick up the book Ginny had dropped – mainly because she could no longer see it.

_Snape's Guide to Field Mediwizardry_.


	7. Chapter 7

Hermione was murdering tradition again.

Snape steepled his fingers and stared at the Dowry box sitting on his coffee table. It looked so innocuous sitting there. Nothing in its appearance gave evidence of the crime its creator had committed. Dowry boxes were for witches. They had been since time immemorial.

So why did he have the urge to run his fingers along it, just to feel the wood-grain?

He supposed he should be angry, but…

He rose and walked to his bookshelves. He ran his fingertips across the bindings. All the books that would have been lost to him in the move. All his well-worn companions. A sigh and a tap of his wand made him complicit in the crime.

Book by book he charmed his entire Hogwarts library into the Dowry.

As he moved down the shelves, he considered what sort of return gift might be appropriate. He wanted something that spoke to her the same way her gift spoke to him. What could he get for her that she couldn't transfigure for herself?

What would make Hermione Granger smile?

* * *

Hermione put down her tea and carefully selected a biscuit from the proffered tray. She watched closely as Surya Yardley examined Hermione's Dowry box. Finally Surya placed the box on the table between them.

"It's in excellent condition," Surya said. " We can expand the library or we can add a second room off to the side."

"Is there one option that's better than the other?" Hermione asked.

"The second room will give you more wall space," Surya said with the hint of a smile.

Hermione smiled back, then nodded. "I'll take that option then. How long does it take?"

Surya picked up her wand and non-verbally began to spell the box. Five minutes later, it was done. Surya handed the box back to Hermione who took it gingerly, wondering if it should feel heavier. Surya then gestured with one hand and an invoice appeared. Before Hermione could put her wand to the paperwork, Surya gestured and the word 'paid' scrawled itself across the bottom.

Hermione looked up in confusion.

"My daughter is looking forward to the camping trip you have planned," Surya said quietly. Then her hand went out to touch a book on the side table.

Hermione recognized _Snape's Guide to Field Mediwizardry_.

Surya took a deep breath." I was particularly impressed by how well organized it appears to be. I was wondering if there was anything – as a parent – that I could do to help."

"Simply make sure she has enough food and clothing, " Hermione said slowly. "it will be a long trip and there won't be a way to send care packages. She'll need to take everything she needs with her.

Surya nodded. " Her brother…he is eighteen. Would he be welcome as well?"

Hermione nodded, mouth dry.

Surya smiled again, although this time it trembled slightly. "Then please consider your account to be paid in full."

Hermione could only nod again.

* * *

Ginny stalked back to Hogwarts uncertain exactly why she was out on the grounds. There had been someone she had meant to see but now she couldn't remember. Hermione had been out there – had she been meaning to talk to Hermione? A familiar stab of resentment filled her.

It was always Hermione.

Hermione this and Hermione that. As if the fact she could do complicated spellwork made the sun shine out her arse. Ginny remembered what it was like growing up, the three of them together and Ginny on the outside.

Ron was her brother and Harry was her boyfriend but did either of those things mean that they brought her along when they left last year? She wasn't stupid. She'd gotten an Outstanding in Defense Against the Dark Arts and an Exceeds Expectations in all her other classes. Even Snape had seemed impressed with her Bat Bogey hex.

She even knew they were up to something, although no one else had seemed to notice.

She was as sorry as anyone when Hermione lost her parents, but Ginny had also seen something calculating in her eyes every time she had looked at Snape. Ginny had waited and waited for Hermione to ask for her help but she never did. So Ginny had come up with a plan, just in case Harry needed a safe place to come home.

She was the one who thought up the plan. She was the one who took control. She was even the one keeping the school open for the students and the teachers under guard. She and the rest of the Gryffindors had saved Snape from Shacklebolt but did either Snape or Hermione think to give Ginny any credit for that?

She'd done it all for Harry – to keep his hands clean. Only Harry wasn't there to be impressed. He'd left a week ago telling Ginny that he had some stuff he had to do. She'd told him she wanted to help but he'd told her it wasn't his secret to tell.

Merlin she was tired.

She was tired of exploding Howlers from the parents. She was tired of the glares from the teachers. She was tired of all the squabbling every time she made out a patrol schedule. And she was tired of worrying about her boyfriend and her brother. She just wanted someone to tell her she was doing the right thing and to give her a target to hex.

And for once, she wanted Harry to look to her for help, instead of Hermione.

* * *

Harry handed a nice tip to the lorry driver who had delivered the next truckload of food to the house. It was a risk, giving Muggles access to the house like that, but it was the only way to move that much food – at wholesale prices to boot – without someone seeing him drop everything into an Extensible Bag.

Merlin he was tired.

Casting a No-see-um spell after the driver left, Harry floated everything inside and tried to find a place for it that didn't block his pathway to the kitchen. The food he had cleaned and preserved yesterday was already gone. Hermione must have been by to spell it into her Dowry.

Moving Day couldn't come fast enough for him.

He dumped a bushel of apples into the sink to rinse, cast a quick Scourgify on the basket, then transferred dripping apples back into the basket. The preservation charm he used was right out of Witch Weekly.

One down…many to go.

They were so going to be tired of apples by the time this thing was over.

As he dumped another bushel in to soak in cold water, he wondered if Ginny had had time to find the Port Key page in the book yet. He wanted to be able to tell her what he was doing. Hermione was great and all, but she had her own responsibilities. He wanted to be able to talk to just one person who wasn't involved in the plans the three of them had made.

Then again, he was living it. Sometimes he didn't always want to talk about it.

In the meantime though, there were apples.


	8. Chapter 8

"You, Madame, have a problem."

Hermione looked up from the row of books she was treating with a mildew potion. "How serious?" she asked, alarmed.

"Azkaban serious. Are you aware of the laws regarding kidnapping underage children?" Snape demanded.

Hermione relaxed. "Miss Wright?" she asked.

"Among others,"Snape grumbled. "They are assembling their tents as we speak, down in the main courtyard."

Dabbing potion on the next book in line she set the charms and moved to the next. "It's okay,"she said. "We have a master list of which book went to who. If anyone under seventeen tries to port, the book will warn them they need parental permission. Harry will visit their parents to explain the situation."

Not that that had been part of the original plan.

It had just never occurred to her that so many underage children would want to come. It should have, really, with some parents having been forced into marriage with strangers. Then there was the loyalty factor and just plain wanting to be part of the excitement.

It was Harry who had pointed out the problem and the solution.

Not that she planned to say that to Snape.

She had hoped that once the shock of their planning had worn off that Snape might have warmed up to Harry. They had more in common than she would have thought years ago, and she wanted them to be friends. Instead, the tension between them seemed to have increased although there was no outbreak of hostilities. Other than that, things between herself and Snape seemed to be okay.

It was a balancing act, knowing he was watching her all the time.

"I am going into the forest to harvest potions ingredients," Snape said. There was a slight hesitation. "Would you like to come?"

Hermione nodded before she had time to think. Checking that all her charms were in place, she capped the recovery potions she was using, then watched as Snape signalled to Apprentice Wallace that they were leaving. Hermione found herself scrutinizing the apprentice's response for any sign of jealousy.

She hastily redirected her thoughts when she realized where those thoughts were going.

"Have you purchased a potions kit for your Dowry yet?" Snape asked as they reached the main doors.

He held the door for her as he waited for her to answer. She just shook her head. She had been meaning to ask him to go with her to visit Slug and Jigger's Apothecary. He'd just been so busy that she hadn't wanted to impose. Every time she had seen him lately he was either overseeing the lab or writing furiously in some sort of journal.

"I recommend one each of kits 3, 7, and 9. That will give you a good basic kit that can be supplemented nicely with what we will gather here today," Snape said, without a trace of a sneer. In fact, he sounded downright good-natured.

Hermione eyed him suspiciously.

Not that she expected him to be rude. He'd been nothing but polite since…well, since she'd tricked him into an Elemental marriage. But it was a far cry from polite to happy - which is what he seemed today. She studied him as covertly as she could while he kept his stride short to allow her to keep up with him.

He wore a black turtle-necked sweater and Muggle jeans in a boot-cut style that allowed for dragon-hide boots underneath. Both suited his lanky frame and the sweater looked so touchably soft she itched to run her hand over it. And in spite of the fact he wore his hair loose, he must have had it cut properly as it fell away from his face.

All in all, he looked nothing like Professor Snape, the man who had dominated her school years.

Until he opened his mouth.

"This is a patch of red pimchie. It is best harvested during a warm afternoon. If it is harvested with dew on it, the whole lot will spoil in hours. You need to hold the knife like this…"

And so it went.

Plant after plant – some familiar and some not. Roots, stems, leaves, and flowers. There was something to be harvested on every plant, shrub, or tree they ran across. She was a bit puzzled, but was too busy paying attention to think about his reasons much.

By the time they had filled two baskets with potion ingredients she was footsore, dead-tired …and the most relaxed she had felt in weeks. Months even. It was soothing, listening to his voice. It was both familiar and not.

As they walked back to Hogwarts, Hermione spotted one of the aerial patrols as it did a sweep near the front gates.

"Why do you think the Ministry hasn't tried to take back control of the school,"she asked after watching the patrol for a minute.

"There is no reason to. It's a controlled situation."

She gave him a disbelieving look.

Snape shrugged. "Classes are still being taught – the only difference is that the professors are escorted everywhere they go. Other than that, what has changed?"

Hermione opened her mouth point out that Ministry had been locked out of Hogwarts when she realized that it didn't matter. The Ministry didn't have any power, the EWC didn't care, and the Marriage Law didn't depend on anything except the age of the students. All-in-all, it made the taking of Hogwarts a tame thing.

"And after?" she asked slowly.

"After is a different story," Snape said grimly.


	9. Chapter 9

Hermione was bored.

The Dowry had been completely cleaned and stocked with food. The last of her library had been treated and repaired. The Dowry heirs – new and old – had mostly finished trading for the books they wanted and requests from outside the school had dwindled to a trickle. On top of all that, the group of girls who had been building tents in the courtyard appeared to have dispersed.

And there was still a week to go until Moving Day.

She was sure there was something she ought to be doing. Some crucial element she had overlooked. After four years of Real Time spent always trying to find enough time to do everything she needed to do – having a break just felt weird.

Even if it was the calm before the storm.

She was turning away from the lake and heading back toward the castle when a patronus streaked toward her from the direction of the front gate.

"Herbert Mondragon is at the front gate to see you."

Surprised, she turned in the direction of the gate. She altered her path. Mondragon was waiting impatiently on the other side. Warily she gestured for the two Seventh-Year boys manning the gate to let Mondragon in.

When he had safely passed inside the Anti-Apparition barrier, she stepped closer and gave a polite bow. She found herself flushing angrily when he didn't return the courtesy.

"I need to speak with you." He said flatly.

Interpreting that to mean he wanted to talk about _Snape's Guide to Field Wizardry_, Hermione gestured for him to follow her away from the gate. When she judged they were far enough, she cast a non-verbal Muffliato. He didn't relax. If anything, his tension increased.

"Do you realize the havoc you are creating?" he demanded. "I have had only three witches accept the Nursing Apprenticeship they were offered."

Hermione was startled. Only three?

"Perhaps they found apprenticeships elsewhere," she suggested reasonably.

Mondragon gave her a repressive look. "We both know that is not the case. Please do not play me for a fool. I need those apprentices."

Hermione shook her head. "I wish I could help you, but I'm not in control of their choices. I'm simply offering them an alternative."

"You'd ruin their lives to make a point? "Mondragon asked. "How long before the Ministry tracks you down? The girls would have ruined their futures and left me short-handed to boot. Do you know how many babies are going to be born over the next three years?"

"Sadly, yes," Hermione stated calmly. "I ran the arithmancy equations a number of times."

"Then you know how desperately we need nurses."

Hermione rounded on him, resisting the urge to poke him in the chest with her wand. "And what happens when the apprenticeship expires?"

"Maybe we will have changed the EWC edict by then, but I need nurses now."

"Then recruit from the general population, "Hermione said in an attempt to sound reasonable.

"Half those witches are pregnant already, and the other half soon will be. We don't have enough daycare spots to accommodate recruiting from them." He ran his fingers through his hair." Merlin, I don't know what the EWC is thinking. We are going to more than double our population over the next three years and we don't have the services to absorb that many people so quickly. I _need_ those nurses."

Hermione felt sorry for him, she really did. He was trying to make the best of a bad situation and her goals were making it worse. But she wasn't going to ruin the lives of the next generation to sanctify the situation the EWC had created.

It had to stop somewhere.

"I'm sorry," was all she could say.


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: Happy Holidays!

* * *

Severus found Hermione in their sitting room, a brooding expression on her face as she stared at the tapestry of Godric Gryffindor and Salazar Slytherin. He stood just inside the closed door, watching her.

"Am I doing the right thing? "she asked abruptly, surprising him because he hadn't thought she knew he was there.

"To which thing are you referring?"

As if he couldn't guess; the substance, if not the particulars. He'd already heard multiple times that Mondragon had been by to see her.

Hermione didn't shift, just continued to stare at the tapestry. "For every witch I save, I'm damning a muggle."

"You knew that, "Severus said bluntly.

It was much too late to be worrying about ethics in this situation.

"But it wasn't real then," she said flatly. "And this isn't what I planned. Not this many people, so fast. It was supposed to take another eighteen months. And we weren't supposed to trap muggles."

Severus just stared at her, wondering why she was worrying about that now. She had known about the muggles weeks before she and Potter sent their message. She caught the look on his face and interpreted it correctly.

"I thought I'd only be able to get enough copies of the field guide out to the Seventh Years. That was the plan. The Horcrux and the Seventh Year girls. The rest were supposed to take another year and a half. It was supposed to give us time to get organized on the island."

"So the Dowry Project was opportunistic?" he asked, wondering at the luck then of having the one book guaranteed to get Surya Yardley's attention.

"No, "Hermione admitted, "but I didn't expect it to take off so quickly. And it was always speculative. I didn't know if the Yardley family would trade. My real plan was always the Horcrux first, and then the Port Key in _Snape's Guide to Mediwizardry_. I didn't expect so much help from you."

"But you were quick enough to take advantage of it," he said dryly.

She looked uncertain for a moment and he found he didn't like it. Questioning one's actions was all fine and good, but he didn't want her questioning her use of him.

"My talents, such as they are, are always at your disposal. Do not waste your sympathy on me. "

She blinked rapidly enough to alarm him but she got herself under control to his immediate relief.

"Are you overwhelmed then, by the numbers? Will you have sufficient resources?"

She nodded her head. "We should, at least until the greenhouses are producing. I just…I didn't know about the muggles when this whole thing started. And now that I do…it's my choice that traps them here. "

"No, "Severus said flatly, "It's the Emergency Wizarding Counsel that traps them here."

He was trying to think of something else to say when the pile of books on the coffee-table caught his eye. He frowned when he recognized the cover on all of them. That damnable guide to Mediwizardry.

She saw where he was looking and her expression darkened. "There are seventeen of them," she all but spat.

Given that she had charmed the books to return if the owner failed to abide by the terms of the Fidelius, returning books were a regular sight lately. He wondered if he was supposed to be sympathetic.

She glanced up and took in the carefully blank expression on his face.

"They are all from the lot I sent to the forty-two boys turning nineteen this year. " she said bitterly. "I checked – none of them have apprenticeship offers on file with the Ministry. So that's seventeen boys who are actively choosing to Bind a witch against her will. "

"Not everybody wants to be saved," Severus said.

"No…but some are choosing to perpetuate the crime, "she said softly, "and if I can blame them, then I'm guilty as well."

"There is a big difference between responsibility and guilt, "Severus stated. "You are no more guilty than St. Mungo's when they have to decide which patient to treat first. "

"Except if I hadn't acted , there wouldn't be a choice in the first place."

He had no answer for that.

Add to that, the fact that - according to Ministry law - what they were doing would probably be considered illegal. It was unknown whether those who left would be able to return. They might be able to seek asylum in another country but that was not guaranteed.

In many ways, he was more surprised they were getting any refugees at all than otherwise.

He chose his next words carefully. "The EWC is not a government that can be swayed by protests or lobbying. It is a construct. Either we live with its rules or we leave. You have offered the boys a way out. It is not your responsibility if they choose not to take it."

"But the muggles…"

Severus growled low in his throat, exasperated. "Do you think this is the worst offense our society has committed against muggles? Do you know what a botched Obliviate does? Or even considered the fact that our government thinks it perfectly acceptable to tamper with someone's memory? We Confound them and we Obliviate them. All in the name of protecting our society. And now this damnable Marriage Law has us raping them mind, body, and soul. If you really want to save them Hermione, then change the attitude that makes it permissible to assault muggles in the name of saving our society."

Hermione stared at him, aghast. "How am I supposed to do that?"

Severus shrugged. "I have no idea."

* * *

Feeling sorry for herself was a pointless exercise.

Nor was it getting her any closer to getting things done. So her timetables had been reduced to so much scrap – that didn't stop time. She had less than a week to get organized for Moving Day. To that end, she decided to see if Professor McGonagall was willing to help her with the greenhouses.

Ginny had allowed the examiners from the Ministry onto the grounds and most of the teachers were helping to supervise the OWL and NEWT examinations. Hermione had originally scheduled Moving Day for the day after exams finished, but with the negotiations running long to allow the examiners into Hogwarts in the first place, now it fell smack dab in the middle.

As a result, Hermione was anticipating that Moving Day would mostly be individuals or families originating from the copies of Snape's Field Guide to Mediwizardry sold through Flourish and Blotts.

"I'm ready when you are, Ms. Granger."

They were outside the Anti-Apparition Barrier where no one could see them.

McGonagall didn't react when Hermione pulled out her Time Turner except to frown slightly and give Hermione's face a quick study. Truthfully, there was no need on Hermione's part to use the Time Turner – there was still most of a week to go – but it was the only way for Minerva to take four hours away from supervising exams.

Taking hold of Professor McGonagall's arm, Hermione pictured the abbey and apparated. The familiar squeeze barely had time to register when they were bounced off something solid. She landed on her hands and knees, skinning both on hard granite. Head reeling from the collision, she was checking to make sure all her parts were still attached when she heard a low groan. Blinking to clear her eyes, she saw the Headmistress sprawled a few feet from her.

Hermione got to her feet and leaned down to help McGonagall.

"Thank god you get an 'O' in determination, Ms. Granger," the older witch said shakily. "What did we hit?"

Hermione was about to say she didn't know when she turned around and looked up. Way up.

"Oh dear Merlin, what have you done?" McGonagall asked, horror in her voice.

The castle loomed against grey skies, filling the area where the abbey ruins had been and beyond. It flowed like liquid rock – its bones sunk deep into the earth as it stretched twisted fingers of stone toward the cloud-covered sun.

"What have you done? "Minerva managed again, this time her voice rising with panic.

Hermione just looked at her helplessly. "I don't…I didn't do this."

Professor McGonagall's eyes were wide with terror as she stared up at the castle. "Can't you feel it? Can't you feel what that is?"

Cautiously, Hermione let her magical senses reach toward the castle. For all its forbidding appearance, there was a feeling of welcome and strength emanating from the rock walls. Hermione relaxed. Now that the initial shock was over, she realized that the ruins of the abbey must have pulled the vision from her head, reading her desire for a safe place for the refugees. And perhaps, a bit, of her desire to create a place for adult learning and sanctuary.

"It's okay, "she said. "Welcome to Sanctuary."

"No, "McGonagall said grimly, grabbing Hermione's arm to hold her in place. "It is not fine. That building is self-aware."

Hermione frowned, trying to understand her concern. "It's like Hogwarts."

McGonagall stabbed one forefinger toward the castle. "That…thing…is a far cry from Hogwarts. Don't you understand? You never make them self-aware. _Never_."

"It was dying," Hermione protested. "Gone a bit mad from loneliness. I had to do something. All it wants to do is serve."

"And when you are dead, Ms. Granger? What then? Who will control it when you are gone?"

"Arrangements have been made," Hermione said, unwilling to say more.

Those arrangements were between her and Sanctuary.

Hermione started for the front gate and after a few moments, Professor McGonagall followed.

The closer she got, the larger she realized the castle to be. It was deceptively huge, the natural flow of the rock disguising it as part of the island. It was almost as large as Hogwarts, with multiple towers, levels, and main courtyard. There were also several flattened areas around the castle that could be used to create outbuildings as expansion demanded.

"This is amazing," Hermione said, admiring the way it all flowed together in a manner that was powerful as well as harmonious.

McGonagall just looked worried.

Even as Hermione watched, a stone wall was slowly extruding itself along the seaward side of the island – presumably to prevent accidents. The area between the castle and the seawall slowly flattened as rock was drawn from it into the wall, creating an area that would be perfect for a small orchard.

Or a tent city to start.

Reaching out with her magical senses, she felt a hum that was Sanctuary singing to itself as it worked. There was the sense of attention sharpening and a bright splash of delight as Sanctuary felt her approval of the castle. Hermione very carefully pictured a set of three greenhouses grown on one of the flattened areas near the castle on the leeward side, away from the wind off the sea.

Sanctuary agreed.

Hermione felt her attention split as the castle shifted some of its resources to building the greenhouses on the flatten area closest to the castle. If this worked, Hermione rather thought they would be situated nicely to grow potion's ingredients. Others could be built later for food if they were successful with the first three. Multiple terraces with stairs cut into them would take nice advantage of the terrain.

Hermione led the way into the castle itself.

It was dark, with the only illumination from high narrow window openings not yet covered in glass. Hermione paused as she tried to sort out what she was – or wasn't – sensing. The castle had clearly been constructed by magic , she could sense the wisps of it that clung to the stone. She could also sense Sanctuary itself as it hummed quietly to itself. What was missing was the feeling of enchantment Hogwarts possessed.

Centuries layered the walls of Hogwarts with various charms that Sanctuary did not yet possess. Climate control charms, sewage charms, alarms, and even an enchanted ceiling were all still needed to turn this new castle into a home.

Between the two of them, Hermione and McGonagall were able to get one of the bathrooms outfitted with transfigured fixtures and plumbing. Hermione thought there had to be a better way than to simply dump the sewage in the surrounding sea, but it would have to do until she could hire a magical plumber.

Exactly four hours from the point at which they had arrived, counted to the second so they didn't overlap their earlier selves, they apparated back to Hogwarts.


End file.
